


ticket to anywhere

by drivingnotwashing



Series: you've got a fast car [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: (one line but it's there), Always Female Dean Winchester, Always Female Sam Winchester, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Mommy Kink, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:29:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drivingnotwashing/pseuds/drivingnotwashing
Summary: Dean's sister dreams of another life, one where nobody has to know who they are. Dean doesn't care, as long as she can keep Sam's hands around her waist.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: you've got a fast car [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182335
Comments: 26
Kudos: 66





	ticket to anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> hello! just a short fic with sam and dean as lesbians! i was bored as shit at work and this is what happens when you give me two fifteen minutes break and a phone connected to wifi.
> 
> tw (already tagged but we never know):  
> \- sibling incest  
> \- underage sex (sam is sixteen here)
> 
> as always; if you don't like the ship/concept, don't read! be careful with tags and enjoy!

Sammy grew five inches in the time it took the Impala to cross Alaska’s borders. Dean’s sister is six-foot-two when she steps out of the car and into a Canadian forest, gun held in her right hand tightly, finger on the trigger but relaxed enough that she won’t shoot by mistake.

Dean’s twenty, she got her GED last week, and she’s one of the best hunters on this side of the hemisphere, right after her Daddy. Sammy’s good too, but she’s an egghead, smarter than the both of them, she might not outshoot them, but she’s the one they fall on when they need more brain than brawn. Sammy turned sixteen last night, she’s still in school, managed to not repeat a year even though they’ve moved fourteen times this year, and it’s only May. 

They’re known everywhere, the Winchester sisters, Dean’s famous in all of Missouri’s dive bars, Sammy’s a known terror who’ll make you cry at a mathlete tournament. Dean used to win wrestling matches in High School, she used to compete with the boys, used to flip them as soon as she was on the ring and hold their arms down as she choked them out. Sammy’s more the swim and track kind, she’s all stamina.

Dean can attest to it, it takes her forty-five minutes to make Sam come when she fingers her open, half an hour if she puts her tongue near her thumb on her baby sister’s clit. 

Sammy’s got the best pussy in America, Dean’s sampled a few, she’s eaten out an entire cheerleaders team in California once, but nobody’s got Sammy’s honey-like taste, nobody punches out throaty little breaths like her. Nobody else holds Dean’s heart between their thighs and makes Dean groan like a bitch in heat by calling her mommy.

It’s fucked up, what they are, what they do. Dean’s not stupid, she’s well aware that if anyone ever found out, they’d lock her up, take Sam away. And maybe that’d be for the best, maybe Sam deserves more than two fingers rubbing at her walls inside a dirty gas station bathroom. Maybe Sam should get more than kisses that taste like sherbet and liquor, given hungrily by the only family member out of two she seems to tolerate. But Dean’s always been a selfish little girl, she used to break her toys so other kids on the playground couldn’t wrap their pudgy and clammy little fists around them. She doesn’t want to break Sammy, but it feels like they’re headed that way.

She’s pretty sure Dad knows. They’re not as smart as they think they are, not as secretive. It’s easy to read what goes on between their enamoured stares. Dean tried to stop it once, all of it, the love confessions and the fucking. She lasted four days, and only because she’d spent three of them on a salt-n-burn a town over. When she came back, Sam was waiting for her in her purple flower covered panties. Dean’s only human.

Everywhere they go, guys follow her around like she’s the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Just a bunch of rats shaped as men, trying to get their sticky fingers on her flat chest and wide hips. They call her lips blowjob perfect and say they love her after a day. If Dean wasn’t already a one-team player, the sheer thought of one of these simpletons in her bed would be enough to make her swear off hetero sex forever.

Recently they started falling Sam too, who's just as much of a lesbian, by the way, Dean wonders what was the tipping point, what finally made her sister good enough for male attention. Was it her legs? They’re longer than Dean’s, but they’re muscular too. They’re the legs of a girl who played soccer every day of last year’s June, the legs of a girl who finds joy in outrunning werewolves on a full moon.

Maybe it was Sam’s hair then? It falls a little over her shoulders, long enough to pull it off of her face but not long enough to braid. It’s a dark auburn, Dean’s hair is strawberry blond, but Sam’s golden all over. She’s got miles of gleaming skin and hazel eyes that shine like jewels. But she’s also got rough, calloused hands and feet that look like fucking boats. 

She bets it was Sam’s tits that got the boys crazy. Firm handfuls that spill a little out of Sammy’s sports bras. Dean never wanted big breasts, her own already bother the shit out of her. They’re sore every month and she can’t sleep on her stomach. But she’s got a weak spot for girls with beautiful racks. It’s not surprising, her type’s built on everything that makes Sam.

Uncle Bobby says they’re too close, she and Sam. He says he’s seen other sisters their ages and they can’t stand each other. That they can’t wait to leave home to put some distance between them. Dean feels like she can never be close enough, she wants to merge into Sam and never step out. 

Sammy speaks of college when their Dad’s drunk on the couch. She talks about dorm rooms and student unions. It scares Dean to the bone. Sammy dreams of an address, she dreams of mailboxes with _Winchester_ on it. 

“We can be anyone in California.” She says, her voice barely covered by their father’s snores, “We don’t have to tell anyone we’re sisters, and nobody’s gonna care about what we do. We can be anyone.”

They wouldn’t be them if they weren’t sisters. They wouldn’t be the Winchesters if they didn’t kiss in motel rooms. Dean doesn’t want to be anything else than Sammy’s big sister.

“We can take the car,” Sam continues, she’s holding Dean’s hand, her fingers gently tracing circles on the palm. It’s more intimate than fucking. “We can just drive off, Dee, just leave it all behind.”

Dean hums and leans forward to wrap her arms around Sam, she barely fits now, but Dean’ll never stop sheltering her from the world. 

“Can be anything.” Sammy trails off, falling asleep. Her breath is warm on Dean’s neck.

Anything to Sam means safety, it means being normal. It means the barista knows your name, you have a favorite restaurant, a favorite clothes detergent. To Dean, it means nothing at all. 

But Sam’s too good to bury in grave dirt and blood, Sammy’s too pretty to hold a gun like a doll, to hold a knife like a friend. And Dean’s selfish, she’s never given anything away.

She takes her father’s wallet before he wakes. She guesses the sound of the car’s what got him up. She doesn’t care, Sammy’s choosing a tape on the passenger seat, the sun's in her hair.

She’ll look beautiful on Californian beaches.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are deeply appreciated!
> 
> ↠ find me on [tumblr](https://itstartswithbloodshed.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/drivingnwashing/)


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